Sense and Insensibility
by Red Valerian
Summary: Scully succumbs to temptation. Well - wouldn't you?


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Title - Sense and Insensibility

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Author - Red Valerian

E-Mail address - hg83@dial.pipex.com

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Rating - R

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Category - Vignette/Romance - subcategory: Mulder/Scully 

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Spoilers - none 

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Keywords - An MSR erotic interlude I guess

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Summary - Scully succumbs to temptation. Well - wouldn't you?

Disclaimer: They belong to CC not me, but I bet that I have more fun with them than he does. 

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Sense and Insensibility

By Red Valerian

Scully was sitting bolt upright on her comfortably soft, feather-filled sofa gazing down at her sleeping partner. Incredibly, he lay with his head in her lap, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, face nestling into the warmth of her stomach - a picture of insensibility. Scully stared down at him in perplexity, while she tried to resist the urge to reach out and smooth the hair off of his forehead so that she could have a better view of his face. 

Instead she bent her knees and lifted her bare feet up onto the coffee table in front of her. Mulder's head fell back slightly with her movements, its dead weight now resting heavily on the cradle of her thighs, his sleeping face turned upwards towards hers. That was better. She could now gaze to her heart's content. She smiled wryly at the phrase. Heart's content. Yeah. That just about summed up what he meant to her. 

The smile quickly faded and she sighed deeply. The only other sound in the room was the hiss and crackle of a dying log fire which seemed to echo her melancholy. 

Giving in to her earlier temptation, Scully reached out and smoothed the hair off of Mulder's forehead, using both hands. Then she continued to slowly run just the tips of her fingers through his scalp, over and over, first with her left hand then with her right, following the curve of his skull from front to back. It was almost mesmerising, being able to stroke him like this, to thread her fingers though his soft hair and watch the frown lines on his brow gradually relax. She felt such overwhelming love for him at that moment. And such overwhelming frustration at not being able to express her love. She sighed again.

An answering sigh came from the direction of the fireplace, where suddenly a little flame burst into flower amid the embers. There must still be some fresh kindling in there somewhere, Scully found herself thinking idly. Not quite dead yet then. Just like me.

The hungry flames from the kindling found a half burnt log. They coiled around it and teased it into burning too, and suddenly the room brightened noticeably. The increased light would make examining Mulder even easier. Scully quickly turned her eyes back and let them slide over the landscape of Mulder's face. It lay before her like an undiscovered country - a new-found-land. 

She was suddenly reminded of some lines of Donne's poetry - 

"License my roving hands, and let them go,

Behind, before, above, between, below.

O my America! my new-found-land….

How blest am I in this discovering thee!"

Mulder murmured something in his sleep at that point, but she made gentle shushing noises and he soon sank into immobility again. Scully could now resume her own little voyage of discovery to this new world. She did indeed feel blessed to be able gaze at his face in repose. It was not a chance that came up often. In her mind she traced the steps that had brought her here. It had all started typically enough.

Mulder had appeared wild-eyed at her door a few hours before, dragging her out of the rare luxury of a warm scented bath by pounding on the door, hardly allowing her time to put on her fluffy terrycloth robe before he began to speak. Or more properly, began to rant. He'd needed to talk to her about something that couldn't possibly wait until the morning - naturally. She couldn't even recall the details now. She just remembered trying to calm him down and finally succeeding only when she convinced him to sit on the couch and tell her all about it sloooooowly. 

They'd begun by sitting side by side, but gradually as time wore on and sleep began to overtake him, Mulder had stretched out on the comfy couch. Then somehow, still talking, he had turned to face the back of the sofa, snuggling his face into Scully's lap and wrapping his arms around her waist. It had all seemed so natural. Scully hadn't even noticed at first. She'd merely listened sympathetically as his voice gradually thickened and slowed to a sluggish murmur, while she made soothing noises, stroked his hair and rocked him gently. 

Inside was nothing but whispers and warmth and the scent of vanilla body lotion. Outside a sleety November rain strafed the windows and tried without success to invade their inner sanctum. 

The contrast was startling. 

She looked down at Mulder again and smiled tenderly. She couldn't give him much, but she clearly made a comfortable pillow, anyway. At least she assumed so, from the contented expression on his face as he repeatedly rubbed his head languidly into her terry-clad warmth. Again, Scully couldn't take her eyes off of him. The flickering light of the newly revived fire cast tantalising shadows over his face, giving it a false air of mobility. 

She became fascinated by the planes and curves of him. The concave and convex of him. The firelight threw an intricate pattern of tinted hues over his flesh - scarlet light dancing with vermilion, bathing him in warm gules of colour. She leant closer and stared open-mouthed as her robe gaped open slightly.

Scully had worked across from this man for five years, and yet she felt like she'd never really seen his face before this evening. Had it always been this beautiful? She couldn't take her eyes off of it now.

Then it happened. He was still sound asleep - she could see that clearly, otherwise she could almost have believed that it was deliberate. Mulder started nuzzling into her robe as if searching for something and obligingly it began to gape open even further. A second later one warm rosy breast popped into view, the pink nipple still swollen and smooth from the bath earlier in the evening. The sweet smell of vanilla intensified, and Mulder smiled in his sleep and licked his dry lips.

Scully gasped slightly and then held her breath, waiting for something to happen. She wasn't quite sure what. Meanwhile, Mulder tipped his head back further so that his partly open mouth lay just under the soft swell of her breast. 

OK. She knew what she should do. She should tuck herself away at once. Close the front of her robe immediately. Now. That was the sensible thing to do. And sense she had in abundance. Everyone knew that. She knew it herself. She'd do the sensible thing, too. Of course she would. Any minute now. 

But just for a second she wanted to take in the picture before her. The picture *they* made. To memorise it. To treasure it. 

Even to her own eyes her full breast looked lovely in the flickering firelight - as swollen and ripe as a new peach. And his lips were so beautifully soft and just slightly pursed. He was like a child making a kissy mouth- wanting to be loved. And his lips were so close to her nipple. So very close. Only an inch or so away.

Suddenly Mulder wriggled himself up a bit, and she wriggled herself down a bit and then her nipple was even closer to those soft lips - a mere hair's breadth separated them. She could feel his warm breath on her flesh which puckered in anticipation. 

Mulder's lips suddenly puckered in anticipation too, and he made several soft little sucking noises. In his sleep?

She looked anxiously at his eyes, heart pounding. Still closed. His breathing remained deep and even. He was definitely sleeping. He'd never know. If she just leant forward a teeny bit, her nipple would actually touch his pursed lips. It was such a temptation.

This time she didn't even try to resist.

Even as the thought entered her head, she felt herself leaning forward, her left hand on the back of his head urging it gently upwards. Their flesh met just as a knot of wood exploded in the fireplace with the sound of a gunshot. Scully's heart pounded afresh, but she stayed where she was. Her flesh to his flesh. Waiting to see what would happen.

Mulder's lips were slightly chapped, and they scratched against the puckering nipple tantalisingly. Scully cupped her breast with her right hand, pushing the nipple back and forth against his lips, aching for more pressure. Aching for something, anyway. Her heart was still pounding painfully and she felt almost drunk. She couldn't believe that she was doing this. What if he woke up? She shuddered at the thought and was just about to pull away when it happened.

Mulder's lips opened of their own accord and then closed immediately over her turgid flesh. She gasped as he began to suckle her breast greedily, like a hungry baby, burrowing his face into her warm flesh, tightening his arms around her waist. 

Christ. Scully had never felt anything quite like this before. Oh, men had kissed her there. Had licked her there. Had even bitten her there. But it was always a prelude to something else. A bit of cursory foreplay. Never an end in itself. No-one had ever done what Mulder was doing now by instinct alone. 

The arms around her back tightened even further, and he suckled yet more of her breast into his mouth, making hungry-baby noises in the back of his throat in time to his fierce sucking. She could feel her nipple being elongated and stretched as it was sucked far into the moist warmth of Mulder's mouth, scraping over his bottom teeth on each inward journey. His tongue was a hollowed groove into which her flesh slid exactly. A perfect fit. His cheeks hollowed and relaxed, hollowed and relaxed with the intense rhythm. And as he sucked, she felt an answering fierce throb begin between her legs. 

This had to stop. God - this had to stop. But even as she thought the words, she let her head loll back on the sofa, and closed her eyes, the better to relish the sensation of Mulder's lips sucking at her nipple. It was so intense. It made her feel so hot. Not in the sexual sense - but literally….hot. She wanted to throw off her robe - throw open the window. Let in the sleet to cool her fevered flesh. Something. 

Mulder suddenly stilled. His teeth bit at her nipple, chewing gently for a few seconds, and he seemed almost about to drift back into deep sleep. But then just as her nipple had nearly slipped from his mouth, he suddenly jerked and began to suck desperately again - even more strongly than before. The fresh tug on her nipple sent a renewed throbbing to her groin. Scully was having to fight not to squirm on the sofa. Not to buck her hips up off of the cushions. 

Now she was really hot in the other sense too. And wet. God. She couldn't bear this.

Gathering her remaining sense, she sat back up and looked down at the still insensible Mulder. His lips were latched onto her nipple and his eyes were closed tightly in fierce concentration as he sucked for all he was worth. She'd never seen him look more beautiful and her heart broke a little as she thought of what she had to do. Then sighing again, she did it.

Gently, she slipped her left hand behind his head, hooking her fingers in the soft hair, and tugging back just a little. Meanwhile, she used her right hand to pull her nipple out of his sweet clinging mouth. It came out with a tiny wet plop. She watched the puckered flesh gleaming with his saliva. The surrounding alabaster skin was imprinted with just the suggestion of his teethmarks, and her whole breast glowed ruddily from the general manhandling it had received. 

Mulder was really frowning in his sleep now. His lips were searching frantically for the comfort which had been summarily removed. Before she could change her mind, Scully leaned away from him, and quickly closed her robe over her throbbing breast. 

Even as she did it, she considered taking the action back - opening the robe and slipping her chilled nipple back into the warm welcome of his searching mouth. It was yet another temptation but this time she resisted.

Mulder's lips were still searching for what they'd lost, however, and she listened sadly as he began to make little grumbling noises in the back of his throat as his frustration grew.

Suddenly his eyes shot open, and she found herself unexpectedly faced by his clouded countenance. 

"Scully….." he began, hesitantly. 

She saw the confusion and guilt flicker over his face and her heart lurched as he continued in a small voice. 

"Scully….what have I been doing?"

He made no attempt to get up, and instead rested heavily on her lap, head still cradled against her bent knees, and arms still around her waist. Then his eyes seemed to clear a little more and the barest suggestion of a smile curved his lips.

"Scully…." he repeated, with growing understanding. "What have *we* been doing?"  
  
At his unexpected words, Scully felt a blush spread from her throat up over her chin, until it lodged in both of her burning cheeks. She'd hoped he would either remember nothing or else think it was just a dream. She should have known better.

He was looking at her waiting patiently for an answer. And she didn't have the heart to tell him lies. It would hurt him so. And he'd already had so much hurt in his life already. 

She reached a decision, and smiled back down at him.

"I think we both know what we were doing," she answered matter-of-factly. "The question is, do we want to carry on doing it?"

Mulder's expression told her all that she needed to know. Sliding his hands around to the front of her robe, he gently pulled it open and gazed up at her scented flesh. 

"Oh Scully…." he murmured as he began to nuzzle insistently at her breast, "Oh Scully….do we ever!"

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-fin -

You liked? You hated? Please let me know! Hg83@dial.pipex.com


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